It's Pouring Here

Nigeria has entered Total Shutdown.

One company after the other is explaining to customers and clients why they have to endure one form of rationing or another, urging them to take precautions. Fuel prices have not only gone through the roof, the commodity isn't even available for those who are willing to spend an awful lot for just a little. There's the threat from Labour to down tools. And today, at least one bank has explained it'll be closing at 1pm until things improve.

Then, there's an outgoing class prefect who can't be bothered and an incoming elder who can't be blamed just yet. So, who do we hold now? The condition of utter helplessness, an inability to cause a change in one's own fortunes just enervates one's desire to maintain a positive outlook. For how long? In the face of all these?

*sigh*

As the shutdown extends across the entire country, one thing rings true. When things go burst, it doesn't rain here. It pours.

How Not To Make Comparisons

This is just misleading. It's meant to make it appear to those who do not know that Juve struggled from a Serie B side to qualify for the Serie A and then rose through the ranks to the top of the league and now are UCL finalists.

Nothing can be further from the truth.

Juve wasn't relegated for poor performance. They were title contenders before an investigation into match fixing resulted in them suffering a deduction in their match points for the season. They subtracted 30 points from their tally which effectively meant they didn't have enough points to stay in Serie A.

They had the great fortune of retaining some of their best players who chose to keep faith with the club in the lower division rather than go elsewhere and play at the top. Gianluigi Buffon, former Czech star Pavel Nedved, Alessandro Del Piero, Mauro Camoranesi and David Trézéguet remained.

These key players ensured that they blasted through the teams in the lower division and returned immediately to Serie A where they once again challenged for the title and with a few extra players won it again.

It was as if for them, not much changed for those two reasons. 1. The relegation wasn't due to poor performance. 2. Key players remained.

Can that be a good comparison with Arsenal when one looks at the exodus of key players and the tight fiscal policy surrounding the new stadium? I'm not going to give excuses for the Arsenal team's inability to win many more titles but you have to do a better comparison with a team that has gone through a similar historical line with Arsenal for it to make sense. Not trying to be deceptive by comparing it to Juve because you can use the story of their relegation to fool ignorant people.

No one will deny the work that Wenger has done and his consistency at certain levels given how things are in world football today. Even die-hard fans who want trophies will agree that football is tougher today than before. Yet, the gaffer has remained consistent in keeping Arsenal as a top side year on year.

True, the trophy cabinet is empty and it's about winning in football, and some of the losses can be traced to him as a coach and everything, but it doesn't rule out the fact that he has done a lot more than coaches in his shoes could've managed.

Apart from someone like Mou, and maybe A. Ferg, due to their consistent clashes, other coaches around the world who understand the business give Wenger a lot of props for what he's been able to achieve in London.

So, I'm going to conclude that it is simply stupid to use such analogies as depicted in the picture to try to fool people into thinking it makes sense to look at these two teams in that light. I'd use other abusive terms but it'll not be civil of me to do so. Lemme stop at "stupid".

The Cartesian Reaction to Nouveau Political Rhetoric

One of the Murray-Bruce's has been strutting his stuff non-stop since returning to earth from Saturn and being "fortunately" elected. It's been amusing to watch, really. If rhetorics alone could solve the world's ills, Obama wouldn't have been shellacked in the last mid-term elections. But I digress.

What's my position on the Bruce Lee antics of the SilverBird helmsman?

#NaWash

There's a formula that can be applied to the best way to react to novel tact employed by virgin, nouveau politicians fresh to the corridors of political power. It is best expressed in two words hewn from Cartesian philosophy.

DOUBT EVERYTHING.

That way, if it checks out, you'd be positively impressed. If it doesn't, you'd not have been deceived.

He might come across as avant-garde and everything. No biggie. It's not for nothing they say power corrupts. And absolute power does so absolutely.

Nota Bene
I wasn't at a loss for words when I said "my position".

Mouthed

He soaked in the applause as he posed for pictures with the Institute's President, his hand caught in the President's in a manly handshake. Alex turned this way and that in response to the requests of the team of paparazzi arranged for the event. The flashes of their camera lights reflected off of his spectacles, causing him to blink as well. He didn't bother. It was a moment of pride. Of triumph. It was reward for consistency. It was his moment. But it wasn't just for himself alone.

In the midst of the photo session frenzy, he stole a quick glance to where he had asked her to sit. And there she was, beaming with smiles. Filled with as much pride as he himself was. Possibly even more. Because, apart from himself, no one else put more into bringing to life the force that brought him to this podium.

His mother.

The Alex that was standing there wasn't always a trophy candidate. As he reciprocated her smile and saw her wipe her teary eyes and wave at him, he was transported to the day when it all changed. Forever.

One of his maternal aunts had come visiting one day, so many years back. He was in the second year of secondary school at the time. After some light talk with her sister, his mother, she had enquired about his whereabouts.

"In the sitting room, as usual," had been his mother's reply.

"I'm sure it'd be one of those cartoons that's keeping him quiet like this," auntie said while getting up.

She sauntered into the parlour and saw Alex with his eyes riveted on the TV screen. Laughingly, she shook him to get his attention saying, "So because of Voltron you can't come and ask of your brothers, eh Alezzy." She always referred to her own two sons as Alex's brothers and had a preference for the more endearing "Alezzy" which only she was allowed to use.

"Is that how to..." She stopped mid-sentence.

It wasn't just Alex's less-than-excited response that caught her. His body was hot under the touch. And when he turned to look at her, forcing his gaze from the screen, his eyes were pale and beginning to redden. She didn't know when she screamed for his mother.

A mild melodrama ensued as mama Alex, a senior nurse with the State's Teaching Hospital burst into the sitting room, aghast. She was so terrified, she lost sense of how to deal with the what was happening.

"Alex! Alex!!" she grabbed his head and gazed into his eyes. "Haaaay, I'm finished," she cried holding her head with both hands seeing how pale his eyes were.

She entered more hysterics when she felt his temperature. She was almost beginning to jump around before some reasoning began to return. As she looked around for what to get some water with, auntie returned to the parlour with a bowl of cold water and a face towel.

Mama Alex just seized both and was immediately dabbing Alex's head and neck with the damp towel while auntie proceeded to remove his shirt. The towel was already hot before the second button was unfastened. When auntie saw her sister's hands shaking, she gently eased the towel from her hands and continued with the dabbing.

Mama Alex, still shaking, went to quickly change the water which wasn't cold enough any more.

In the kitchen she saw that Alex's lunch was hardly touched. He must've lost appetite, been running a temperature and feeling ill. Yet, he sat quietly in the sitting room pretending to be watching cartoons? If her sister didn't... She shuddered at the thought. She couldn't continue because she'd seen what the consequences were of any escalating rise in body temperature that was unattended to. It was never a nice outcome.

She felt frightened of the several "what if's" that came to her mind. The more she thought about it, the worse her fear grew. She didn't know when the tears avalanched. She tried to stifle them and quickly changed the water.

Just as she was about to reenter the parlour, she overheard her sister say to Alex, "... want to put your mother in trouble? Eh? How can you be here feeling sick and you know she is a nurse? Couldn't you have just told her so that she can help you to get better quickly? Ah ah! You just sat here. Now, see how afraid you've made her because..."

She stopped when she looked up and saw mama Alex standing by the door leading to the parlour from the kitchen. The look of fear on her countenance had vanished. As had the tears. In its place was something she recognised very well. The early warning signals of anger before an eruption of volcanic propulsions.

Auntie was confused and wondered what the sudden change meant. "Sister..." she began, "what is..."

That was as far as she got before mama Alex descended on Alex. It was a beating that was borne out of exasperation. Even Alex never saw it coming. She was beating him and crying. Alex was being beaten and crying. Auntie was trying to stop the beating and crying too. All for different reasons.

Mama Alex was tired of Alex's penchant for not speaking out and now almost dying as a result, in her very presence. Alex was in pain from the illness and now, the beating. Auntie was confused and now, sympathetic of Alex's condition. But her sister couldn't be restrained.

"I have told you times without number, open your mouth and talk. It is not for decoration," mama Alex was intoning, as slap followed slap all over the wailing Alex's hot body. "It's not only to say, 'Buy this, buy that' for me. Say what is wrong with you. Tell me when something is wrong, you will not hear. You want to kill me for my mother? I will kill you first!"

She wrestled herself from her sister's grip as auntie tried to stop the beating.

"I didn't kill my mother. You will not kill me, you hear?" She pounded him some more. "I will beat this sickness from your body," a now fiery mama Alex was saying in between heavy breaths.

"And if he dies in the process?" auntie asked while catching hold of her sister's raised hand to stop another heavy slap.

"Leave me oo, let him die na," she countered. "At least I'd know nobody will be giving me high BP everyday because they can't open their dirty mouth and talk unless it's to ask for biscuits and sweets."

Finally, auntie got a good grip of her and forcefully pulled her away from the cowering, crying child. She was still struggling to be free all the way to the bedroom shouting, "Lemme teach him the lesson of his life and force his mouth to open and that rubbish sickness to run away."

Auntie slept over that day. His mum, when she finished hyperventilating was repentant. She didn't sleep all night. Her tears-soaked eyes were heavy when he woke the next day, back to health. But the lesson had been taught. And well learnt.

That day onwards, it was impossible shutting Alex up. Not even his mother could. He talked up a storm whenever he opened his mouth. He became irrepressible. A dogged fighter for whatever he believed in. Even if he stood alone. He made himself heard.

It was the President's feigned cough that brought him back to the present day.

"Good to have you back, Alex. I'd like to have my hand back, if you don't mind," the President joked.

As everyone who heard laughed, including Alex who quickly freed the man's hand from the handshake, Alex found himself shedding a tear. It was in gratitude. For everything else his mum, mama Alex, had done for him over the years. And like he always did when he felt these emotions, he swore.

I'd make sure you're always crying for joy anytime you think of me. I'd make you proudest. The proudest mum ever. And he meant every word.

As usual.

Device Choice and Preference

I used to prefer a device on the cutting edge of tech that made me only one of the first few with the latest OS, freshly baked. That lasted a good while. Until the "Almighty" holders of power "changed it for me". Of what use was a latest software-running-device, when it was dead from 100% battery to shut-down in 3 hours of heavy use, or less?

I became a wall-hugger, always to be seen with a device plugged to charge while being used. Cos there was no telling how much juice will be left when the electricity supply was cut. And, it was always a case of scampering for chargers and plugs to slot the phone into as soon as power was restored.

Plans to charge the device to capacity were made ahead of any extended period away from a wall socket. Extra chargers had to be bought to accompany the phone outside the normal residences and points-of-regular-charging. When those still didn't make the phone live longer between charges, power packs gained notoriety. Vendors seized the initiative and today, it's only sometime now before you'd see a power-pack sold beside the regular "gala" sausage. It was so lucrative, our countrymen ventured into it and sowed weeds of fakes in the midst of the original fruits of power packs. As usual.

I didn't need further preachments to change preferences. Again, the issue was about how much good was a tech-blazing device when for half the time it was either keeping you tethered to a wall socket or it was dead, the other half? Options for a device on the bleeding edge of technology but with a bigger battery juice than my aging Nexus 4 came at a premium. A premium I was as unwilling to pay as could be imagined.

As I was in the market for a phone, I tied it to a fresh preference - a huge battery power. I'd have said humongous but tech products today aim more for a slimmer profile with the ongoing internecine war to churn out the record-setting slimmest-smartphone-ever still raging. As with the attractions to slim down body-parts, some goodness is lost in the process. Battery always suffered.

Then, just as I was salivating over the battery juice in the Huawei Ascend Mate 7 - saying nothing of the eye-watering gorgeousness of its hardware and the steep edge of its over a 100,000 asking price - a Chinese vendor caught my eye. And even if I'd not have believed a crystal-ball reader telling me some months back that I'd ever use one of such devices much less own one, I was sold.

In less than a week, I know it was as right a decision as I've ever made. For now. With a bigger battery than even the latest offerings from Samsung and Apple and a splendid screen tech to boot, I've begun living life away from the charger. And it's super duper. It takes the heft of the iPhone 6+ and Samsung Galaxy Note 4 to the cleaners coming with that phablet screen real estate but with a chunkier battery and at a ridiculous price of N25,000.

Yea, I may be your common, regular, cheapskate but when personal preferences are involved, none of that matters. A full battery on this beast with 4000mAh outlasts my heavy usage easily without breaking a sweat (the Ascend Mate 7 had a 4100mAh battery). I don't care much about DISCOs and their consanguineous links to the GENCOs no more as I'm enjoying my Infinix Hot Note. Say what you will. Na you geh yur mouth.

All Goose and Gander are Created Equal But...

As I responded to another individual pestering the opposition to reply to the documentary on "historical Buhari", allow me hold the same position here.

Which accusations of outright corrupt practices tied round his neck has Jonathan responded to? Where is the fulfillment of the promise of getting the Chibok girls back? Where is the apology and retribution for fooling us all with a bogus, harebrained ceasefire? Who has been punished for those hullabaloo? A president who was given a full country is now campaigning for reelection having ceded portions to a ragtag motley of miscreants (in comparison with the might of what used to be the Nigerian army). Where is his defence for that?

Hasn't he failed in his singular constitutionally-bequeathed task of the welfare and security of the lives of Nigerians? Has he answered to that? Why was it that the only minister ever relieved of his duties and had his travel documents seized was the only one who dared call to the question the sharp practices of a government parastatal? Does he care to respond and counter this fact? 

What do you defend of a President who says one thing today as it suits him and when it no longer matters he says another. He has every right to change his mind as any individual, but why lie about it? He promised to be a single term president, that was called statesmanly. It's ok he decided not to be a statesman anymore. But don't lie that you didn't make such promise when there's video evidence to the fact. Has the DSS called him to question on the prevarication about MEND and the attempt on the life of the president? Should that not be accorded the highest levels of seriousness that we should have a right to know for sure threats to the highest office in the land that today is treated with disdain (it was not MEND in 2011 became MEND in 2015 because they switched loyalties to the opposition)? Who's defending that?

What has been done to those responsible for the lives of Nigerian graduates who died in a badly organised, money gathering job search for positions in the Immigration Service? Innocent people who only wanted an opportunity to serve and to live by earning their keep and who were ready to pay for what shouldn't attract payments? No one is documenting that? Or you think that isn't MURDER for Christ's sake? If Abba Moro, Jonathan's lackey can today be gloating about Jonathan's approval for upping prison amenities instead of being an inmate himself, Jonathan has blood on his hands. 

Any excuse here is just bloody sentimental, and that isn't acceptable. At all. You're allowing sentiment becloud your judgement, maybe because none of your family members or friends died since y'all have good jobs under the best President since the presidential system began on earth. If that isn't childish, I don't want to know what childish is. 

Now, let's not digress too far. All these occurred under a democratically run government where there's a constitutionally backed legal standard. 

Yet, nothing, NOTHING, N. O. T. H. I. N. G. has happened to Jonathan oo. Nor his army of murderers. He's having his field day going around with a rallying cry to do more of what he's been doing. Do more of call corruption mere stealing while it causes hunger, starvation, death and more stealing across board. Do more of ceding areas of the country to a group while arguing about if only three people died or 300, like life is animal dung. Do more of spend trillions obtained from a period of the highest oil price ever with little or nothing to show for it, except old school locomotive contraptions they call AC trains that no one else uses again but the most backward countries, and sharing dumb phones and fertiliser to farmers who could do with government subsidies for mechanised agriculture. Do more of making claims of achieving victories that had nothing to do with him, claiming the Nations Cup victory after 19 years then refusing to claim the disgrace of a defending champion not even qualifying, claiming to have made Nollywood great and also the success of telecommunication, claiming the best economy in Nigeria for what was simply a statistical calculation with no real difference in anyone's life. Doing more of barefaced lies and outright thefts, from rebasing to transformation.

Where's the outrage? Because there's no tape or documentary to show the impact of these maladministration here, we turn the other way, bury our necks in the sand and pretend all is well. Because there's no time to begin to dig into how to sort all these out and make serious commitments to bringing things to a point where the average man on the streets can begin to enjoy the dividends of democratic society, abi?

But they have the time to gather old documents and produce a documentary of similar issues of a period in our history when the Constitution was suspended and the state was run by military fiat? Because they know some like you people here will ask Buhari to answer these allegations while no such demands are made of they themselves. You play too easily into their hands, as you do that. They wish to continue campaigning while you do their dirty job for them forcing the other party to leave the campaign and fill your biased thirst for answers.

It's foolish to imagine it will work. But as some of you here prove, common sense is not too common after all. There's goose. And then, there's gander.

Our Own Enemy

You know all these crises we're in? Terrorism, militancy, rotten governance? It isn't about failure. This is punishment. Our collective failure isn't recent. It predates this government. But this here, this catalogue of doom, is the consequence. We left our pot unwatched, we must now chew the burnt offerings that our supper has become.

It is hoped that the unsavoury chow will make us so determined to fight against a continuation of such stomach-retching meals so that at least, at dawn, breakfast will be mouthwatering. I wish. The reality on the ground points to a far disgusting series of meals that await us as a whole.

Because we have allowed ourselves play into the divisive tendencies of the political class, enervating what could've been single-minded purpose to push for change (since power is never wilfully surrendered), this punishment will persist. It is self inflicted. We are our own enemies. And no one can save us from us but us.